


Under The Surface (Dig Deep Till It Bleeds)

by raendown



Series: MadaTobiWeek2018 [8]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Clan Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: In which Tobirama and Madara were born in opposite clans and the Uchiha curse of hatred gets a bit too literal.





	Under The Surface (Dig Deep Till It Bleeds)

Rumor said he was the devil walking, all the beasts of hell combined in to the flesh of a man too fast for the naked eye. They said his skin was white because he sold his soul and that he had marked his face with red lines because he thirsted always for blood, more blood. Hushed whispers told stories of a man mired in hatred and anger who had never loved anything but himself.

Senju Madara stood across the battlefield from Uchiha Tobirama and wondered how much of the rumors were true. He’d never met an Uchiha whose eyes stayed red even after the tomoe of the Sharingan had faded and he knew that he would never meet another human being who terrified him quite as much as this one. If he were indeed a human being. Even the man’s own clan watched him warily, parted before him when he walked, and Madara noticed the way Tobirama never met anyone’s gaze directly. Did he think himself better than others? Were there some sort of sinister consequences to meeting his eyes?

Madara had never faced Tobirama directly himself. That honor fell to his elder brother Hashirama, the only one with enough power to face the might of the Uchiha clan head. Yet despite having the strength to meet their strongest foe in battle and come away the victor, more often than not Hashirama chose to leave their battles at a stalemate, offering his hand in peace to the one who sought to kill him. Each time he extended his hand Tobirama would stare just to the side of Hashirama’s head and sneer, turning away without an answer. It was an endless cycle doomed to repeat itself.

Until the day Tobirama did not sneer. Instead he frowned and in slow words he asked why Hashirama continued to make these overtures no matter how many times he was denied.

“Because I want peace,” Madara heard his brother say. “Too many lives have already been lost. This war is senseless but we have the power to end it, you and I, if you would just take my hand.”

It took a full five minutes of silence in which not a single person on the battlefield moved, every eye trained on Tobirama, but eventually the man gave his answer in quiet, almost hesitant words. With his arms crossed and his gaze distant, he gave a rumbling hum of thought.

“You mean that,” was all he said.

“Of course I do!”

Tobirama nodded once and reached out his hand to accept Hashirama’s. There was no cheering for most of those watching couldn’t really bring themselves to believe it was truly happening. Instead there was deafening silence filled only by Hashirama’s enthusiastic jabber about building a village where their two clans would coincide in harmony, where other clans could band together with them and no child would die before their time ever again. It sounded like the fantasies he had been dreaming about since he himself was a child, only this time his words almost sounded plausible.

When the Uchiha quit the field that day Madara couldn’t help but to notice the way their entire clan watched their leader. He saw the narrow-eyed suspicion and the naked fear, the distrust where there should have been familial devotion. Yet he could hardly blame them then and so he said nothing, only kept his observations to himself, something to keep in mind should his brother’s dreams truly come to pass.

And come to pass they did. It seemed as though he had merely blinked and several months had gone by, a treaty had been signed, and land had been cleared where they would build a village to house both the Senju and the Uchiha. If their ancestors could see them now the old fools would be rolling in their graves. Like many others, Madara kept a close eye on Tobirama from the moment he led his people to the building site. Unlike others, however, Madara’s sharp eyes observed some things he was certain no one else had noticed.

Rumor said that Tobirama was the devil walking – and Madara noticed that the Uchiha themselves were the first to spout such nonsense. It was said that Tobirama had sold his soul and thus caused his skin to turn white – and Madara observed him in the early mornings covering his pale skin in lotion so as not to burn in even the faintest sunlight. Whispers told a story of hatred and anger – and Madara saw that it was not Tobirama who hated the world. It was the world who hated Tobirama.

Worst of all he saw the way the man’s own younger brother looked upon him. Uchiha Izuna never stood closer to his brother than several feet away, sneered openly at the mention of his name, and spoke to him in a casual setting with such harsh language Madara gave thought to covering the ears of nearby children. If he had even once spoken to Hashirama like that his brother would have burst in to tears and demanded to know why Madara suddenly hated him. How could any man speak to his own sibling in such a manner? It sounded more like he was speaking to a despised enemy than a member of his own family.

Madara watched and waited, making his observations and coming to his own conclusions, and the day Hashirama laid the foundations for the very first buildings he used the gathered crowds as a distraction to slip away and seek out the chakra signature burning alone in the forest to the east. He found Tobirama at the edge of a pool of water, seated on a rock with a naked blade in the grass by his side.

“You’re missing the show,” he said for lack of any better way to open a conversation. Tobirama turned his head but stared somewhere over Madara’s right shoulder, refusing as he always did to meet another person’s eyes.

“As are you,” was his simple reply. Madara grunted. Beating around the bush would take too long, he decided then. He’d never had the patience for subtlety anyway.

“Why did you accept my brother’s offer of peace?”

“Because he meant it sincerely.”

Exasperated, Madara rolled his eyes. “Yeah and he meant it sincerely every other time he made the exact same offer over the last several years.”

“I know that now.”

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t realize that before?”

“Correct. I had no reason to believe that he was sincere in his offer of…friendship.”

Madara stared, shocked in to silence by an unexpected revelation which had been building unnoticed in the back of his mind since the day they were discussing. He thought back over the past few months and the way the Uchiha acted towards their clan Head. Tobirama, he realized, had never understood that Hashirama was sincere because he had probably never known a kind word in his life. Demon they called him and so a demon he acted.

He had not recognized kindness when it was offered to him because he had never experienced it before. What an incredibly lonely existence his must have been.

Clearing his throat, Madara tried to come up with something to say to fill the awkward silence which had fallen between them. Tobirama merely sat as still as a statue while Madara floundered and said nothing until he was addressed again.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I was meditating. It is as good as any way to fill the time, I suppose.”

“Hmph. Meditation is so boring.”

“That is not a surprising opinion coming from you.” If one looked at his face from just the right angle, one almost might say that Tobirama was smiling ever so slightly. “You strike me as the sort of person who prefers physical activity over sloth, action over rest.”

“Who the hell wants to just sit around all the time?”

Madara harrumphed again but it was only to cover the thrill of triumph at see the smallest quirk of amusement hovering around the corners of Tobirama’s lips. The other man tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement before returning to absolute stillness, almost as though to taunt him. If that was his intention then it was a subtle tease and spoke to a hidden sense of humor Madara would never have expected.

Since he had already managed to extract one honest answer, however, he chose to run with that momentum before giving in to the urge to see if he could make this statue laugh. There was something else he desperately wanted to know first.

“How come you never look at anyone?”

“Explain your question. I look at everyone.”

“No, you’re doing it right now! How come you won’t even look at me? You’re the one with the Sharingan so it should be me wary of meeting your eyes, not the other way around.”

“But I am looking at you.”

Madara balled his fists in irritation. “Are not! You’re looking over my shoulder, not at me.”

“Ah. That is my way of looking, I’m afraid. Albinism comes with many symptoms and, for me, I find that my vision is clearest in my peripherals unlike others who may look straight ahead.”

“Uh…oh.” Madara floundered again. “Wow. I never knew that was a – you’re an albino?”

“Did you truly believe my skin was white because I sold my soul to the devils below?”

Now he flushed for he had indeed considered the truth of those rumors when he was younger and suffering from nightmares of a demon stalking the battlefield, slaughtering his beloved brother only to come for him next without ever changing from his usual passive expression. He'd grown up a lot in the years since then.

“I think you’re just as human as I am,” he said, almost defiant in his declaration. He hardly expected the way Tobirama’s eyes widened, the skin of his cheeks flushing a light pink while his head whipped around to face forward.

“Your opinion is…most appreciated. Unexpected and…appreciated.”

Wondering when someone last showed this man even an ounce of basic human decency, Madara smiled to himself and made his way over to the pool of water. Rather than place himself in a prim seiza like his companion had, he kicked off his shoes and flopped down on a rock of his own, letting his bare feet trail in the water and fluttering his toes in the sand.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be alone,” he admitted. “When I discovered I was fire-natured in a clan more disposed towards earth natures, I thought I was strange. Then Hashirama discovered his Mokuton and we were strange together. I’ve never been alone, not for a single moment, but I think you’ve been alone for most of your life, haven’t you?” When he peeked sideways Tobirama had turned his head away again.

“You see much deeper than most, Senju Madara.”

“Hn. I see a guy who wants to get back to his peace and quiet, if only the hooligan who invaded his afternoon would go away.” He grinned, hiding his nervousness and wondering if he should leave.

Very slowly Tobirama turned his head to set his eyes over Madara’s shoulder, the point where his vision would give him the clearest view. Then he said in a quiet, halting voice, “I would appreciate the company if you stayed.”

And so Madara stayed.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Curse of Hatred](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006997) by [Demetria_0620](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demetria_0620/pseuds/Demetria_0620)




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